


Daddy Issues

by Mireille



Category: One Day at a Time (TV 2017)
Genre: Daddy Issues, Daddy Kink, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Internalized Homophobia, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-17
Updated: 2018-05-17
Packaged: 2019-05-08 01:52:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14683944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mireille/pseuds/Mireille
Summary: Schneider sometimes makes some really unfortunate choices. This is one of them.  (Also, Victor is definitely The Worst.)





	Daddy Issues

**Author's Note:**

> So, of all the fandoms in all the world, this one is on the list of "fandoms LEAST in need of dudeslash." And definitely not *this kind of* dudeslash. But then I watched "Hurricane Victor" and I went to a place I couldn't get back from without writing this.

Schneider's not perfectly sure how he got from point A--letting Penelope's ex-husband stay at his place until Elena's _quinces_ \--to point B--being on his knees in his living room, being slapped with Penelope's ex-husband's cock. 

It's the kind of thing that he'd expected would stop happening to him once he sobered up, really--and it mostly had. It definitely had, until tonight.

Victor had brought half of a six-pack of Corona with him along with his suitcase, and after Schneider had shown him to the spare bedroom, he'd come out to sit on the couch, opening one of the beers and sipping it slowly. They hadn't had a lot to say to one another after Victor had offered him one of the remaining beers and Schneider had turned it down; Schneider had been on his phone and Victor had turned the TV to a sports channel. 

After Victor had moved on to his second beer, Schneider had started to notice that Victor was looking at him at least as much as he was looking at the television. Crap. Should he start apologizing again for how much time he'd been spending with Alex? Not that he regretted spending time with Alex; he was a great kid, and he needed a nurturing male role model in his life since his dad was in Afghanistan. Schneider didn't think of himself as Alex's father, though--maybe a surrogate uncle, but not his dad. He wasn't trying to take Victor's place. 

He was still trying to decide how to explain that in a way that didn't lead to Victor losing his temper--Schneider did _not_ do well with toxic masculinity--when Victor said, “So. Not looking for a father figure, huh?” 

What? Oh, Alex's recital. 

Oh, damn, Alex's recital, where Schneider had called Victor “Dad” in front of everyone and embarrassed the crap out of himself. 

“Nope. One's enough. My actual father, I mean, not that we have a lot to say to each other, but nope, no need for a father figure.” 

“Oh, really? Because from where I'm sitting, I get the impression you could use a daddy.” 

Yeah, he wasn't doing that any more--not because it was bad or wrong or anything else, but because it always led to him making decisions he regretted. 

Also because _holy shit_ that sounded like Victor, as in Penelope's Victor, was coming on to him, which was messed up in at least five different ways, by Schneider's count. That added an extra layer of “nope, not doing this” to the situation. 

“Nah, I'm good,” Schneider said, getting to his feet. “Think I'm going to turn in for the night.” Or at least go into his room and hit Pornhub before going to sleep, but Victor didn't need to know that. 

Victor just looked at him for a moment, and for a second, Schneider was sure that Victor already knew that. “You sure about that, baby boy?” Victor said, his voice low, and Schneider froze. 

Yeah. Victor, as in Penelope's Victor, was definitely coming on to him, and that was--unexpected, yeah, he could start with “unexpected” and work up to “incredibly fucked-up” later. With a side trip to “hot.” 

Victor was right around the same age as Schneider--he wasn't sure, but definitely within a couple of years either way--but he seemed older. Tough, muscular, bearded (well, Schneider had a beard, but it looked different on Victor), _mature_. Always before, when Schneider had found himself in this kind of situation--well, always before, he'd been wasted, but also, the guy had been old enough to be his actual father. 

He'd have thought it would be a problem that Victor wasn't. 

He'd have thought it would be a problem that he considered Victor's kids, ex-wife, and ex-mother-in-law to be his family. 

He'd have thought wrong, because he heard himself saying, “What if I'm not? Sure about that, I mean.” He swallowed hard, waiting for Victor's answer and trying not to ask himself what the hell he thought he was doing. 

Victor set down his beer, leaning back, his arms stretched out along the back of the couch and his knees apart like he was posing for “Manspreading: the Statue.” He gave Schneider a slow, knowing smile (and yeah, Schneider now had _no doubt_ what Penelope had seen in this guy). “Then you should get over here and get on your knees for your daddy.” 

Schneider reminded himself that Penelope and Victor's divorce might not have been final, but Penelope had already started dating, which meant that she didn't consider herself married any more, which meant it was okay to not consider _Victor_ married anymore. It wasn't betraying Penelope. It wasn't hurting anything at all. 

It wasn't like anyone was ever going to know, anyway, and so he settled himself on his knees in between Victor's legs and looked up at him, waiting.

Victor undid his jeans and took his cock out, stroking it a couple of times before letting his hand fall to his side. “Well?”

_Well, what?_ Schneider wasn't expecting tender seduction, but usually even the most down-to-business guys he'd done this with had done more than this. Petted his hair, told him what a good, pretty boy he was--something, anyway. He hesitated, hoping Victor would somehow take the hint. He'd already managed to see through Schneider pretty thoroughly tonight, after all. 

Victor leaned forward, taking his cock in his hand again, slapping Schneider's cheek with it. “ _Oye, papito_ ,” he growled--and it ought to be disgusting for Victor to call Schneider the same thing he called Alex, but God help him, it wasn't-- “you really shouldn't keep me waiting like this.” 

And no, Schneider really doesn't know how they got here, not even after running through it all in his mind, but his heart is pounding and his cock is aching and it suddenly just doesn't matter; he opens his mouth and lets Victor in. 

It's been a while since he's done this, and it's not quite like riding a bicycle; there's more gagging involved and a lot more saliva. But he can feel Victor getting harder against his tongue, responding to Schneider's efforts, so he hasn't forgotten everything, at least. 

Victor's cock isn't that long, but it's thick, and Schneider's lips have to stretch around it; he's drooling and whimpering, trying to remember how to breathe. His nose is buried in Victor's pubic hair, and the scent of him, warm and musky, fills Schneider's lungs with every inhalation. 

“That's more like it, baby boy,” Victor says, grunting softly as Schneider works his tongue against the head of Victor's cock. “Give your daddy what he wants.” 

And God help him, Schneider wants to. He hadn't even realized that he misses doing this, that sometimes he needs this. He's pretty stable and put-together these days, but still, every time Victor calls him “baby boy” or “ _papito_ ,” he can feel a knot of tension, one he's so used to he'd stopped noticing it, loosen in his chest. He wants more, true--a hand in his hair, or caressing his cheek; a few words of praise--but this will do.

Victor starts fucking his face in earnest, hips stuttering as he thrusts into Schneider's mouth, and for a few seconds, Schneider thinks he really is going to choke. Then he adjusts, remembers how to breathe and how to relax his throat, and is able to concentrate on making this good for Victor. 

Making this good for his daddy, his brain corrects him, and he has to press the heel of his palm sharply against his cock just to cope with the wave of arousal. 

“That's right, take it, baby boy, take all of it, open wide and let me fuck your throat,” Victor murmurs, and if Schneider could talk, the only thing he'd want to say would be “yes, daddy.” 

There are tears running down his cheeks now, mingling with the saliva; he's a complete mess, and it doesn't matter because he's doing what his daddy wants him to, and for the next few minutes, that's all he has to do. 

The only warning he gets that Victor is about to come is the feeling of Victor's cock getting that last little bit harder against his tongue; he can't help gagging a little, spluttering helplessly at the hot, salty flood in his mouth. But he's proud of himself: he manages to swallow most of it, only a little leaking at the corners of his much-abused lips. 

Once Victor is spent, he leans back, his softening cock sliding out of Schneider's mouth with a pop. Schneider sits back on his heels, his hand still pressed against his own erection, and waits for Victor to do something--anything--to reciprocate. 

When he doesn't, Schneider slides forward a little, resting his head on Victor's knee. Not a very subtle hint, but some guys don't respond well to subtle. He'd rather have Victor get him off, but he can take care of himself, curled up here between Victor's strong thighs. He's been with guys who wanted to watch him before. It'll still be good. 

“What do you think you're doing, _puto_?” Victor says. 

Schneider looks up at him. “It's my turn now,” he says, and then, a little hesitantly, “Right, daddy?” 

“What the fuck?” he demands. “I look like a fucking _maricón_ to you?”

Schneider's Spanish isn't all that good, but he doesn't have to be fluent to figure out what that means. “Considering I just sucked your dick, kind of, yeah?” 

Victor shoves him away; Schneider lands on his ass on the rug, blinking up at Victor and wondering what the hell just happened. “There's nothing gay about getting your cock sucked,” he explains. “A mouth is a mouth, you know? But don't expect me to do any of that gay shit. That's for _maricones_ like you.” 

Schneider scrambles to his feet and takes off, only barely making it to the bathroom in time to puke. Even after he brushes his teeth and washes his face, his traitorous cock is still hard, so he jerks off--mechanically, joylessly, trying not to think about Victor's cock against his tongue--into the toilet, and then is sick again. 

Once he's safely in his own room, in his most comfortable pajamas (including his mostly-ironic My Little Pony shirt, because while he's not a brony, he could use the power of friendship right now--especially since he can't go to his only actual friends about this), a quick Google confirms that yep, _maricón_ means exactly what he thought it did, and wow, _puto_ 's another one that would get Alex grounded for a month, way to be an asshole, Victor.

It's only then, suddenly, that he thinks of Elena, and that the man out in Schneider's living room is her father, someone she desperately needs to love and accept her. 

_This is going to be a disaster_ , he thinks, and if there had been anything left in his stomach, he might have been sick a third time. 

It's going to be terrible, and there's nothing he can do to prevent it--not without telling Penelope what he's done, so not at all.


End file.
